Work in Progress

 I'm working on a new story. What's your impression? Should i continue this story or go back to my whimsical Sarah Series?  This story has no title yet. I call it a Work in Progress.  What should I title this novel of suspense?  If I choose your title, I'll include your name in the acknowledgments and give you a signed copy.

Loneliness like a fog gripped her. Should she get a dog? Perhaps a companion would help. Toby had wanted children, so had she, but none had come along, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.

She supposed the circumstances would be more difficult if she had a child. Her heart clinched at the thought of a baby. Would God ever forgive her? Would He give her a son or daughter someday? Probably not. She didn’t deserve to be a mother. And now, she was a widow, so giving birth to a child was impossible anyway. 

After the funeral, her parents had urged her to return to Denver and the mountains to  live with them.  Toby’s parents had offered their home, too, and that was caring of them, she reasoned, but it wasn’t possible. Retaliation required careful preparation, and she couldn’t scheme with family around. They’d badger her with their good intentions, but they’d be in her way. Arrangements for murder took time and careful thought.

Revenge burned like hell insider her. The desire to payback grew to an inferno. After she evened the score with those who’d hurt her, she’d start a new life. But not until she saw them pay for what they’d done.

Gay N. Lewis

A Sweet Memory to Cherish

Our eldest daughter, Shelley, lives with the challenge of Dementia.

 She gifted me with a blessing at our last visit. It's not our days that we remember, it is moments.  

Shelley on her birthday, March, 2016

In a moment of clarity today, Shelley clasped her hands in prayer mode. She said, "I want to tell y'all something. I really appreciate y'all taking care of me, and I love you." 

 I cried.

Shelley was diagnosed with early onset dementia in 2014.

In assisted living, 2020.  Due to Covid, window visits only.

Isolation caused her to decline more rapidly.

Shelley has always been a "Daddy's Girl."  He does the financial part, and I oversee her medical attention and needs. I visit her three or four times a week, but he can't always go.

Her dad and I are now designated caregivers.  We can go into her room. Here I am, feeding her February 2021. 

When we had to move her from assisted living in July 2020, she weighed 121. Six months later, in memory care, she weighed 86 pounds. I bring malts and goodies to put weight on her. I don't remember what we found funny, but we laughed uproariously at something.

Her dad was with me yesterday and she was having a good day.  I fed her Nutella and a strawberry Boost. She ate an oatmeal cookie all by herself. 

February 26, 2021

Shelley and her dad. She escorted us to the front entrance.

She's always loving, affectionate, and tells me she loves me repeatedly when I'm there. But yesterday, when she told her dad and me how much she appreciated us, I was blown away.

Somewhere in her brain, she understands.

She gave me a memory to cherish, and I wanted to share it.

Faith and Humor

Old Man Winter Gave It To Texas

 

Why, Mr. Winter?  Don't you like Texas? Are you ashamed of yourself for what you did?

Texans knew winter was going to blast the state, but residents couldn't imagine the severity. Most of us in South Texas have never experienced a big-time freeze.

I lived one year in a parsonage in northern Oklahoma, and that winter was awful. I also lived in a drafty parsonage in a country town close to Wichita Falls, TX.  I'd forgotten what it is like to not have water. Those old parsonages were cold. They had no central heat, but the pipes never broke. We never had our house flood from broken pipes.

The pipes froze, and I don't know why they didn't burst. God's goodness to us, I suppose. We were children with adult responsibilities.

I remember looking out the kitchen window one morning in northern Texas to see a sweet, older deacon burying the pipe that drained the kitchen sink. He dug a trench and concealed the rusty thing about twelve inches below the surface.  The pipe still froze, but not as often as before.

The water in that Texas parsonage was undrinkable, so, hubby would take a 5 gallon jug to the neighbor's well, fill it with water, and bring it home.  Sometimes, when we had no water in our house at all, we showered at their house. Our water situation in those days was an ongoing thing, so we grew used to it and dealt with it.

But I'm a big city girl now, and I'd forgotten how I managed in those days.

Water and heat are big deals. If you are accustomed to them, it becomes a challenge to survive without them.

There are seven Scripture verses that remind us that water gives us life. Without it we die. Of course, Scripture refers to the spiritual condition of man, and the living water is Christ Himself.